Anything You Can Do(73)
"Take the rest of the day off, Bailey," he called after her, an act she felt somewhat diminished the impetus of her exit.
Sharon handed her a pink message slip as she dashed into her office to retrieve her handbag. Austin had called again. She crushed the paper into a tight ball and tossed it into her wastebasket.
That afternoon Bailey paced back and forth across the plush carpet of her living room, though its luxurious feel failed to imbue her with the usual sense of contentment and accomplishment. Her well-ordered life, her rising career, her comfortable home—everything was chaos now.
And the beginnings dated back to Austin's advent into her life. Somehow he was responsible for all her problems, even beyond those of which he was the direct and proximate cause. Like bringing sunshine and joy into her life, then replacing them with anger and sadness. She'd been perfectly content before he came along and taught her the thrill of besting him in a contest or even running a close second, not to mention the thrill of touching him, being held against his hard body. She hadn't had those things before he came along, and their absence hadn't seemed to leave a gaping hole inside her chest. But their removal sure did, and that much was definitely his fault.
Everything else, she decided, from her problems with the Miller case to her fight with Morris, was indirectly Austin's fault.
She felt a soft touch on her ankle and looked down to see Samantha's bright eyes peering up at her.
"Oh, sweetheart!" Bending over, she scooped the fuzzy bundle into her arms and flopped onto the sofa. "As long as I have you, things aren't totally awful." Samantha planted a tiny lick on her chin, and Bailey smiled, cuddling the little animal.
The front door burst open, and Paula called, "She's here."
"Who?" Bailey exclaimed, turning to see Paula and Gordon coming inside.
"You," Gordon said, closing the door behind them.
"Why didn't you answer the phone?"
Samantha leaped over the back of the sofa to greet the newcomers, and Bailey turned around to again face the window. "I couldn't think of anyone who might be on the other end that I wanted to talk to," she replied. That should give them a hint.
But it didn't. Paula closed in on one side of her and Gordon on the other.
"We've been worried about you," Paula said. Bailey stood and moved to a chair. "Obviously you wasted your concern. Why don't you two go to dinner or a movie or Las Vegas or something?" Surely they couldn't miss that hint.
"Bailey, I never intended to upset you so much last night. Why didn't you say something to me before you attacked Stafford Morris with all guns blazing?" Paula asked.
Bailey reached down to where Samantha had curled at her feet and lifted the dog into her lap. Maybe if she ignored them, they'd go away and leave her to sort things out in private.
"Don't you think I'm capable of doing my own complaining?" Paula continued. "Why did you risk your job over something that doesn't even affect you? You need to call Morris and apologize."
"When rental rates on the Plaza go down," she grated.
"But you know it's not going to matter in the long run," Gordon interjected.
"Oh, sure," Bailey exclaimed, losing the few remnants of patience she'd had left. "You'll marry Paula, and she'll never have to worry about money again, but what about the person who takes her place? What about the other secretaries? What about the principle of the thing?"
"What makes you think he's marrying Paula?" Paula interrupted, raising one eyebrow as she peered first at Bailey, then at Gordon.
"Way to go, friend," Gordon complained.
Bailey slumped lower in her chair and sighed. "Damn! I'm sorry, Gordon."
Perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, Paula somehow made a formidable appearance in spite of her diminutive size. "Is this something the two of you have cooked up? Is this supposed to solve my problems? Marry Gordon and be an appendage? If that's not just like two lawyers!" She sprang to her feet and started across the room with Gordon right behind her.
Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "Don't give Bailey so much credit," he said. "It was my idea."
Paula turned her head to glare first at his right hand on her shoulder, then at the left, then directly into his eyes. Gordon jerked his hands from her shoulders as though she had suddenly become a ball of fire.
"Can you help me out here?" he appealed to Bailey. "You got me into this."